Sleeping with the lights on
by kimmiesjoy
Summary: Post epi 7x15


**A/N:** written on the assumption the events of the two parter took place on (and after) the first Monday, though I might have accidentally fudged the timeline a little.

Post 7x15

* * *

_I've been sleeping with lights on, cos the darkness is surrounding you, _

_this is my world this is my choice, and you're the drug that gets me through._

* * *

**WEDNESDAY 11.58pm**

* * *

For a moment, a beautifully stretched out second, his whole world seems to revolve around the feel of her body as it relaxes into his. There's a gentle sigh that leaves her chest when she coils within his arms, safe and sure.

Home.

It's the littlest thing but it eases them both, allows them to sink back into the mattress and smile. Smile after everything they've endured, feel that blossom of hope unfurl. It's indescribable. Easing the ache in his chest.

His hand cups her shoulder, drifts over her back and repeats the path in a never ending circuit, watching the dance of light from the bathroom spill shadows that ripple on her skin. He needs the warmth of hers beneath his own and she seems to know. Her soft fingers soothe over his chest, their position comfortingly familiar, and he can never fathom if it's for her sake or his. He's never sure, never really cared before, too busy enjoying the caress, but tonight it works easily for them both.

It's a blessing.

He'd smiled, at the lift of her cheek, when he'd felt his words sink in, allowing her enough semblance of peace that now she could push herself into his arms, close her eyes and, perhaps, find sleep.

He won't.

No matter how lax the slow tap of her fingers becomes, fading out over his heart like the dwindling of hours til dawn. Not even when she grows heavier and warmer in his arms. He won't do more than close his eyes tonight. The rest he needs will come in the warm press of her body, in the hope that lingers between them.

* * *

**THURSDAY 4.57am**

* * *

He does though of course, his body exhausted and pushed to the limit. Castle feels the moment she comes awake, curses himself for having drifted deep enough to miss the exact second the nightmare hit, only now hearing her cry his name.

It's muted. Her lips buried in the crook of her arm, body angled away from his the way it had been when he entered the room last night, seeking space. Her limbs cocoon the sound, but he hears it.

"Rick, I can't br- Cas..."

He closes his eyes and rolls, slow, methodical, forcing himself through movements at a snails pace when everything within him screams for action, for speed. He has to go slowly, the way he did when they found her, feral eyes bright with death and no comprehension of the enormity of what she'd done, could do, might do again if he came for her too fast.

She thinks she could have turned the blade on him. He doesn't believe it for a second.

With one hand to her shoulder, Castle rolls her back, slowly, catches her fingers before she can pull away and slides a hand across her stomach. He's burning hot over the ice cold stretch of her exposed skin and she gasps in sleep as if his touch scalds her.

His eyes thud shut and he's thankful they left the light on in the bathroom, thankful he doesn't have to endure this in the pitch black of their bedroom. His nightmares are only barely out of reach, with her shaking form and darkness, he's not sure he'd survive the night with his sanity intact.

"Kate," he tries, quiet, thumb moving over her cheek, one at her palm, Castle angles her head towards him. He knows where she is, what she's lost in will drag itself from her subconscious and try to claw its way into their daily life. If he can find her eyes the moment she spills from that place into this reality, together, he's pretty certain they can drive it back and keep it at bay.

"Beckett, you need to wake up now." He clasps her shoulder when her eyes flutter and her chest lifts faster, sleep fading out. "Beckett. Kate. Come on, come back now."

It's barely a whisper, a suggestion for the woman who saves herself yet crawls into his arms and tells him she needs him. Wants him. Loves him.

"Kate, honey, I really need to see your face," he confesses, hearing his own pushed down sob of emotion, because he's staring at her, almost lifeless with sleep, and the horror of the last few days hits him square in the chest. He needs to see sentience through her features, movement.

He watches her chest rise and fall.

"Kate, please."

She sighs and her eyes startle, wide, shining with the tears she must have spilled in her dream. It's a snap of fingers before the look fades and she's pressing her forehead to his. One hand flies up and lands over his cheek, harder than she means, rough with the drugged feeling of sleep she tries desperately to push away.

"Kate?" He waits and she nods, breathes hard, heavy and laced with an anxiety so thick he can taste it. He swallows it down with his own.

"M'here," she sighs again, eyes heavy blinking, "mm'okay, are you?"

"Yes, I'm fin-"

"Castle." She squeezes his hand for him to stop. He does.

"I'm better now you're awake."

It's true, even if it does nothing to solve their problems.

She pushes him back, no weight behind it just the loving persuasion of his wife's hand over his heart and her knowing eyes on him. They find themselves in the position they fell asleep in, little good it did them, and her sigh is heavy, an echo of all those that have gone before it.

"You need to sleep," she strokes his face and interrupts before he can get the words out. "I know, but I'm here too."

"I know you are," he closes his eyes, doesn't know how to tell her he's not sure the promise of waking to find her face in the dark is enough for him to risk the image of her lifeless corpse swamping his dreams.

"Too hard, huh?"

He nods as his entire left side becomes weighted down with the press of her body. It's exactly what he needs, what they both need.

"Did she look like me?" She queries him almost reluctantly. She knows the case details but not the story, not the intricacies that fill in the space between horrors. She wasn't sure she wanted to know, so he kept it sparse.

He does of course, knows every detail down to the raw bloody tips of her fingers and what the gag in her mouth tasted like.

"Castle?"

"Enough," he chokes out, words rushing up. "Not like the others," she nods, grateful for that, "but enough from a distance to make me think -"

"I'm sorry."

"Don't."

His vision swims. Her lashes graze his jaw, damp with her own understanding, "I'm sorry, Castle."

He doesn't answer, fingers falling into place on her back once more, roaming back and forth.

"I was dreaming about my mom."

He freezes, knows she must feel it. It's the last thing he expected to hear but he finds her face in shadow, darkness sinking under the weight of a morning come too soon.

She says it quietly, almost a whisper to herself, an admonishment she doesn't want to give up, as though he's her confessor. The sanctity of their bedroom can endure this of all things, if it brings them back to where they were. They've done it before. They'll do it again. He can be that, if that's what she needs. God knows she's done it for him.

Kate worries the pads of her fingers, abrasions and rough skin peeling away at her touch. He watches for a few seconds before he gives in and takes her hands, devours them in the soft embrace of his own, cocooning her injuries. He doesn't want to watch her bleed again.

She smiles softly at that, strokes the skin within her reach, soft touches to his palms in thanks.

"Your mom?" He prompts when she doesn't - when she _can't_ \- find the words.

Their eyes clash and the spark of something feral lingers there once more, as though she's back in the room staring down a crazy person.

"It's soft...when the blade goes in," she whispers, "I didn't expect that."

He startles, but stamps it down immediately, glad when her head shoots up and she looks at him again, worried. There will be no judgement from him. The words seem to tumble then, cascading from her on a ride of quickened breath and relief.

"I've killed people before," she hums and he knows this, strokes her fingers, just listens. "I've regretted it, hated it, accepted it." She sighs, "I've been resigned to it and merciless sometimes."

She squeezes his fingers then but he knows who she means, in his time with her there have only been a few people she took down without a second thought. Hired hitmen who smashed a glass bottle over her head and force fed her drugs and alcohol spring to mind and he inches closer, curls an arm over her shoulder expecting some resistance. Perhaps she has none left.

Her head finds his chest, fingers curl in the round neck of his t-shirt and Kate draws her legs up under her on the bed. So small he dwarfs her with his embrace. Perhaps that's the point.

"It was always with a gun," she murmurs into his neck. "Always a distance, never - I stabbed -" her words croak out. "I can't stop thinking about my mom."

He knows she's crying, knows it's the first time since she came home that she's allowed herself the luxury, so he doesn't speak for a moment, just drags his hand up and down her back, resting his palm over the hand that sits above his heart.

"I don't regret it." She's calm when the words finally come, knowing he feels the same.

She hasn't said much beyond fact, tiny details that don't explain much of those last few minutes before they burst into the room. and he hasn't asked exactly how the doctor died. He read the scene pretty clearly at the time. There was no blood spatter, no sprays, no evidence of a fight. Just the woman's lifeless body, face down in pools of her own blood.

And he's glad, so whatever that makes her, whatever she _thinks_ that makes her, he's not much better. "I'm glad she's dead. That they're both dead. I don't know what that says about me -"

"About us." She counters.

"- but the alternative?" His words choke off and her thumb soothes the line of his throat.

She nods. But doesn't speak. He thinks she's still thinking about her mom, about the feel of a blade in her hand and blood dripping from her fingertips.

"It doesn't make you -"

"I know that." Her voice is stronger than he expects and he can't help the smile that comes, inappropriately proud and hidden in her hair. "I just -"

Her nails bite into his skin, can't find the words, maybe not sure she wants to.

"Knowledge you didn't need?"

"Yeah." She touches his face and smiles, tries anyway. "It will get better." He hears the way she wills it to be true, craves belief in her own words.

He sinks lower in the bed and brings her with him, nodding. "It will."

Castle arranges them against the pillows so they can watch the sunlight creep in through his office, through the shelves and stacks of books. The light spills between the stories they've created together, those written and lining the walls and those not yet conceived that lay between them in the years ahead. They won't sleep again tonight, but with every inch the light gains on the darkness, hope does the same.

* * *

**FRIDAY 8.02am**

* * *

He comes awake to the slow tap of her fingers over his chest. When he opens his eyes she's watching him, smiling, almost a laugh trapped behind the curl of her lips.

"Hey. Staring?"

"Mmhm, your idea remember," she kisses his cheek, brushes her lips to the edge of his mouth, doesn't let him ask how long she's been awake or what exactly it was that woke her. "You were talking in your sleep." She doesn't even give him time to second guess what words might have spilled out, though he doesn't remember dreaming. "Good talking." She grins against his mouth, kisses him, "Sweet."

"Oh?"

Her hands slip below the sheets and she rolls over him until she's arched above his body staring down, the morning greeting them with a flare of gold that sets the ends of her hair on fire with sunlight.

"Oh!"

She laughs and there's lightness to it, mirroring how he feels inside. Today will be a good day, he thinks, great day even with the heated stretch of her body on his and the promise of -

The front door bangs loudly and they both freeze, until the silence is filled with chatter and the call of their names.

Her eyes flash up to his, not wide with panic but excitement and his heart may just burst from his chest.

"They're back," she leans up and kisses him again, laughs into it when he holds her tight rather than allowing her to wiggle free. She gives in though, ease through her muscles and enjoyment loud in the breathy moan that -

"Richard, Katherine, we're waiting."

She snorts right against his lips, dips her head into his neck to hide the bright red flush of her cheeks, and laughs again when his mother calls out something about needing more alone time. Alexis _ews_ and laughs and plays along. The normality of it takes him by surprise and Kate sees her advantage, shoving away from him, only to find her feet and drag him to his.

"Come on Castle, I missed my family." She grins over her shoulder knowing exactly what she's doing, what it does to him.

He catches up to her at the door and they spill out of the bedroom a mess of tangled up limbs only to be engulfed in more.

His eyes meet hers over the top of his daughter's head, he sees the honesty of her earlier statement now washed clean of her teasing tone. She really did miss her family.

* * *

**SATURDAY 7am.**

* * *

It's a simple thing, coffee in bed, but he refuses to leave the day unmarked. It's not how he imagined it, their first, but it's enough, sharing it with her.

Coffee.

Their thing.

Even when they couldn't find the words it's always been enough.

He pads into their bedroom quietly with a mug in each hand and a sigh trapped in his chest that he finally lets free. He tries his best to be quiet, slipping around the bed rather than giving in to his usual stride in hopes she stays asleep a while longer, maybe rouses from pleasant dreams at the meaningful aroma.

They're doing good though, he thinks, smiling when he sets his own cup down on his side, a little under a week and it's getting easier. Small steps everyday. They still whisper in the darkness, the light on to keep the dreams at bay, but they're already lessening in frequency, ferocity. He'll call it a win, the way they work through it, with soft touches and soothing sentiments staving off the worst of the panic. She seems to have taken his words to heart, seen their merit, because he's been catching her eyes on him more than usual since he said it, watching, quietly observing, downright mesmerized at times.

They've become partners in the creepy staring as well as all other aspects of life and he will call it a win, cos it's working.

"I didn't forget."

He stops and the smile that was creeping gently over his face just thinking about her widens at the sound of her voice. The mug in hand burns his palms enough that he gets moving again, coming around to where Kate is laying on her side facing the wall. He thought she was asleep, clearly not.

He braces himself for what may come and Castle hesitates a little, half steps and practiced grin at the ready only to find her looking serene, even if not as rested as he'd like. The smile is back in her eyes, not just gracing her lips, in a way that makes his heart both at once soar with relief and settle into something like a normal rhythm.

"Morning," she sits up, slow, hands out for the mug and face tilted up for a kiss that lands on her forehead. Her lips quirk at his kiss but when she looks down at the heart in the coffee foam she positively beams.

The mug lands heavily and she pulls him down, climbs into his lap with her knees at his hips, her arms around his neck and nothing but love in her eyes. No dead gaze this morning and he will call that another win, another victory for hope. He's owing her a lot right now.

"Hi," Kate smiles and the knots of her fingers tighten at the base of his skull.

"Hi?"

She laughs at his tone, at his face, at him generally and he'll take it and run, grateful today seems easier. Today is easier. Better.

Kate kisses him lazily, the smokey flavor of her morning kiss fired with something he hasn't caught on to yet, something that he chases as she pulls back smiling.

"I didn't forget," she hums again, thumb to his forehead when it creases in confusion, "did you?" Her own eyes narrow and his mouth pops open and comically wide, mainly for her benefit before he reigns it in and at least attempts to be suave. It's hard when she looks at him like that, eager expectancy and thrumming desire, the tail end of trauma just a smidge too close to brush off.

His smile falls and his arms tighten and it flashes through her eyes just as quickly. Kate ducks her head and lets out a breath against the heat of his neck, her mouth lingering there, warm and soft.

"I didn't forget." He says quietly, but it comes out strained, weighed down.

"I didn't mean that." She tenses and his hands slide up her back his head falling into the curve of her neck.

"I know you didn't, neither did I."

He makes the effort to catch her eyes, to smile, to wait her out with the honesty he can't convey written in the lines of his face.

"I'm sorry."

She relaxes infinitesimally, the whisper of his apology drawing out another sigh and the soft stroke of her hands at his jaw, over his cheek.

"You didn't forget?" Her lips pinch together into something that looks like it might want to be a smile, something she's holding onto so it cannot get away from her.

"First Valentines day with my wife?" Castle scoffs, aiming for levity and finding it easily this time, "You underestimate me, detective."

Her gaze flashes up, her finger lifting to traverse the length of his nose, all humor gone, "No I don't," she hums, her eyes never leaving his.

"Over estimate, then." He grins, thinking jewelry and presents past.

He misses the quirk of her eyebrow, the flush of her cheeks.

She arches her back and shifts the weight to her knees, pushes him down and lands heavy in his lap with a little wriggle. "No need for that." A suggestive twist of her hips leaves him in no doubt about her meaning, tongue poking through her teeth before she bites her lip and laughs, falling into his chest.

"So," he drawls, "being as neither of us forgot Valentines day," he smirks suggestively, spreads his fingers wide and allows his hands to drift a little low, "what do you wanna do?"

"Hmm," her eyes close and open easily, "I plan to sleep until I -" She catches herself with another grin "- _we_ have to go back to work on Monday."

His face falls comically, deliberately misunderstanding her, "Sleep?"

She grins, tweaks his ear and curls herself around it to nibble the lobe, "Sleep. Like _napping_," she growls, "only it lasts a hell of a lot _longer_."

* * *

**SUNDAY 4.17am**

* * *

When he wakes, slowly, heavy with the sated kind of sleep that will linger in his bloodstream for the rest of the day, he rolls half expecting to find her wide awake and staring at him. Instead he's met by the soft snuffle of breath against his bare shoulder.

He finds the warmth of her stomach, drapes his arm around her until his hand falls into the small of her back, splaying wide at her spine. He pulls her close and shrugs the covers up to his ears to keep them both warm. Snuggled up.

Just as his eyes close Castle realizes the change in the room and looks toward the bathroom. The light is off, the door pulled shut, something she must have done without thinking in the night, long after he passed out. He smiles at the ease of it, hoping it will stay, prepared if it doesn't. They're back to work tomorrow, together, as they should be and he's so grateful for the last few days, for the chance to heal and a find a workable rhythm. Much needed time alone, and he could get caught up in worry and what if's but he won't allow himself to waste the time, all those thoughts can wait.

Right now the lights are off and his wife is naked, warm, and asleep in his arms. Castle closes his eyes again, wanting nothing more than to join her.


End file.
